As Irene Vallejo well reminded us in her Manifesto for Reading, books are that "invention that allows us to conquer time and solitude," a breath of air when the world seems to suffocate us. Reading is not only an act of resistance but a form of hospitality towards the unknown: "through books, we nest in the skin of others, caress their bodies, and sink into their gaze. [...] (Reading) is a collective act that brings us closer to other minds and constantly affirms the possibility of an understanding rebellious to the obstacle of centuries and borders," says Vallejo.
With that spirit of welcome, we draw this reading map for 2026: a month-by-month journey so that the word may be, throughout the year, our compass and our home.
The winter of identity and mystery
We start the year under the January cold, a month that demands us to return to routine but also to ourselves. In this restart, the graphic honesty of Agustina Guerrero in Today (Lumen) acts as a balm to navigate the January slump with self-love. Known for her iconic character "La Volátil", in this new work she invites us to slow down. It is a book that tells us it's okay not to have everything under control and that the true routine should start by listening to ourselves. It is not just a succession of vignettes, but a deep reflection on the here and now.And meanwhile, the little ones can search for their own coordinates in Beland: mi lugar en el mundo, by Laura Torres and Raquel Aparicio (Brau Edicions), an illustrated album that is a visual gem, where the metaphor of travel and territory is used to talk about belonging. The beginning of the year often brings with it questions about who we are and where we are going. For a child, understanding that their place in the world is where they feel loved and accepted is the most powerful message of confidence to start the school and personal calendar. It is an ideal book to read as a family and open a dialogue about what makes us feel at home.
When February arrives, Barcelona is tinged with shadows with the BCNegra festival. It is time to descend into the unsettling courtyard of Elvira Navarro in La sangre está cayendo al patio (Random House). This collection of short stories is a precise dissection of mental fragility. Its author does not seek easy scares, but rather works on that subtle discomfort that appears when something in our family or work life does not fit. Her characters are often disoriented, moving in extreme situations that reveal the fissures of our contemporary society. It is a reading that forces us to look at those areas of ourselves that we would prefer to ignore.
But we can also let ourselves be caught by the mastery of tension of Samanta Schweblin in El buen mal (Seix Barral). Schweblin is, possibly, the living writer who best handles the feeling of latent threat. In these stories, the strange bursts into the normal without warning: a phone call, a neighbor who behaves unusually, or an object out of place. The author immerses us in a constant sense of unease where guilt and fear intertwine. It is the ideal complement for the month of the crime genre because it redefines what we understand by danger. Both titles remind us that true suspicion always arises in the corners of the everyday.
"The text by Lucía Solla Sobral dialogues with that idea that the personal is political and that caring for one's own wound is also an act of affirmation"To soften winter, March rises with the strength of 8M and the rebirth of nature. The voice of Lucía Solla Sobral in You will eat flowers (Libros del Asteroide) teaches us that personal reconstruction is, in itself, a way of flourishing. This is a poetic novel about pain, loss, and, above all, the human capacity to get back up. A text that pays homage to female resilience, and that dialogues with the idea that the personal is political and that tending to one's own wound is also an act of affirmation. Learning to heal is, in its pages, learning to live in a new way, more conscious and more connected with the essential.
Readings 2026: The spring of the shared word
April is the heart of the bibliophile year. In the hustle and bustle of Sant Jordi, we look for a great novel that stops time, and for that reason we propose the beauty of Small rain, of Garth Greenwell (Random House). In this novel, the protagonist's return to Bulgaria serves as an excuse for a radical introspection on intimacy and solitude. Greenwell is an architect of desire, ideal for reading in the middle of spring.And because Sant Jordi is also a legacy, The Minilibrary by Maurice Sendak (Kalandraka) is offered as the perfect gift, a collector's item to introduce new readers. This little gem is a reminder that the best stories don't need hundreds of pages to be eternal; they are refuges that fit in the palm of a child's hand. And it is worth noting that it is a work translated by the always admired Gloria Fuertes. A piece for both adults and children to enjoy.
With May comes the turn of lyricism. While the Barcelona Poetry Festival is celebrated in the city, we immerse ourselves in Ecografía by Greta Sibling (Galerada), a collection of poems that observes the body and memory with an almost clinical but deeply sensitive precision, functioning as an inward gaze. Winner of the 60è Premi Amadeu Oller de Poesia, it is a book to read slowly, letting each verse resonate like an echo in an empty room.
And before the heat sets in, June brings major music festivals like Primavera Sound or Sónar, so it's time to find the ideal book to carry in your backpack between concerts. That is Pan de ángeles (Lumen), intimate memoirs by Patti Smith that take us by the hand through her travels, her favorite cafes, and her memories of people who are no longer with us. It reminds us that, beyond the noise and crowds, what shapes us are deep bonds and our capacity for wonder at the world. It is an ode to the freedom of being an artist and the importance of honoring our emotional roots as we walk towards the future.
The summer of distance and the stage
When night falls in July, the lights of the Grec festival turn on, and in literature we look for the scenic counterpoint with Audition, of Katie Kitamura (Sexto Piso), a novel that follows a woman who travels to a foreign country for a theater audition. Kitamura is a master of non-communication, and through sober and elegant prose, she explores how we project ourselves to others and the abyss that exists between what we say and what we truly feel. It is a novel about the vulnerability of exposing oneself to the judgment of others, something that happens both on a theater stage and in a new professional or personal environment."Samantha Harvey's work allows us to see the world from so far away, it helps us understand what really matters when we return to it"But it is in August, in the silence of the holidays, when we look up at the sky to visualize, among other things, the Perseid meteor shower. Winner of the prestigious Booker Prize, Orbital of Samantha Harvey (Anagrama), proposes that we observe Earth from space. This novel takes place in a single day aboard a space station. Six astronauts orbit Earth sixteen times, observing glaciers, deserts, and night lights. It is a contemplative read that does not need major plot twists because its strength lies in its lyrical prose and the perspective it offers us: seeing the world from so far away helps us understand what truly matters when we return to it. Reading it lying on the sand or under the shade of a tree is the ultimate experience of disconnection: looking at our world from a distance to understand what it means to be alive.
The Autumn of Returns and Shadows
September in Barcelona is a month of contrasts: the mourning for the end of summer, the energy of the La Mercè festivities, and the forced landing into routine, but the gaze of the National Comic Award Ana Penyas in Awake (Salamandra Graphic) offers us the comfort of humor and shared reality about parenting and routine. With a unique visual style that mixes drawing with vintage collage and everyday textures, Awake tells us that we are not alone in that feeling of not being able to do everything and dignifies everyday life with exquisite sensibility.Meanwhile, teenagers returning to classrooms will find in Hiperràbia by Ferran Grau (Angle Editorial) that echo of urban tension, becoming a book that beats to the rhythm of Barcelona's streets after the holidays. The novel delves into the alienation of a group of young people trying to find their identity in a city that sometimes seems to ignore them. It mixes social criticism with a much-needed reflection on contemporary incommunication.
And when evenings begin to shorten and the air turns sharp, literature asks for stories that keep us alert. In this October of short days, we delve into the universe of Fernanda Trías through El monte de las furias (Random House). A young man returns to his rural environment to confront family secrets that were never fully buried. It is a novel about guilt, the memory of the body, and how the places we inhabit hold the scars of what happened there. It is the perfect read for rainy afternoons, when the silence of the house begins to fill with the echo of the stories we read.
The closing of the fantastic and the family refuge
November invites us to cross the threshold of the invisible. For lovers of the unsettling atmosphere of "All Saints", the stories of Cristina Fernández Cubas in What is not seen (Tusquets) are an unmissable appointment with the queen of the fantastic. She doesn't need big monsters to scare us; a mirror, a poorly closed door, or a memory that shouldn't be there is enough for her. In these stories, the strange filters through the cracks of the normal, reminding us that reality is much more fragile than we think.But it is also the ideal month for this other work because its aesthetics and emotional charge connect with that moment of transition and melancholy that precedes winter. Meteoros: Historias de gente que pasa, by Tommy Redolfi and Jean-Christophe Deveney (Salamandra Graphic) offers a dazzling emotional journey. Through a summer full of discoveries, its pages capture how internal conflicts can be as explosive as a celestial body crossing the sky. It is a work about change and the intensity of living, ideal for reading when the year begins to draw to a close. It is the perfect bridge between reality and that spark of magic or strangeness that so attracts us at this time of year.
Finally, December brings us back to refuge. It is the month of returning home, of long gatherings and of literature as a space of resistance and care. Between family gatherings and reflections, Los ilusionistas by Marcos Giralt Torrente (Anagrama) invites us to elegantly dissect those bonds that define us. In a month marked by family expectations, Giralt Torrente offers us a crystal-clear mirror. His stories explore memory and the disappointments of personal relationships with astonishing precision. It is an invitation to look at those we love without the filters of nostalgia, accepting their shadows and ours.
"At the end of the road, each personal library is a map of who we have been"And now that winter is real, this album of Séraphine Menu and Raphaëlle Barbanègre which is titled The Children of the Cold (Errata Naturae) becomes the perfect bedtime story. Its icy atmosphere and its curiosity for the unknown close the year with a note of wonder and bravery, reminding us that even in the deepest darkness, there is always something fascinating to discover. Thus we close the year remembering that, as Irene Vallejo says, every book is a conversation that never ends.
And so ends our particular map. We surely left out many recommendable titles to fill our backpack, many others that we will find along the way and, of course, all the new releases that are yet to come. But, at the end of the road, each personal library is a map of who we have been. Irene Vallejo says that "objects that border on perfection, books have been lifeboats for our treasure of words in the shipwrecks of time." Let yourself be guided by these treasures then; after all, the next great journey always begins when you open the first page.